


Begin Again

by nontoxic



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2561906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nontoxic/pseuds/nontoxic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor hated the words on his wrist. Not always, but he has for a long time now. "Come here often?" He's had them since birth, and spent years tracing over the squashed, square letters with his finger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Begin Again

Connor hated the words on his wrist. Not always, but he has for a long time now. ' _Come here often?_ ' He's had them since birth, and spent years tracing over the squashed, square letters with his finger. 

He used to spend hours staring at them, wondering what the boy who would speak them would be like. (And when he told his parents, they simply shrugged and didn't worry about his certainty that his soulmate was a boy at all.)

But then Aiden Walker showed up his sophomore year at boarding school, and introduced himself with, "Hey, my name is Aiden, I'm new." Connor was crushed because he was so _sure_ when he first saw him. But he shrugged it off like everything else, and one day when he was fucking Aiden hard into his dorm mattress, he spotted small, elegant handwriting across his shoulder blade that read, "Well hello, handsome."

Connor bit his lip because it sounded _so much_ like something he would say. But it wasn't the first thing he'd said to Aiden.

When he realized there was no way around the soulmate thing, he started to really hate his tattoo. He bought a watch to cover it up and never showed it to anyone again. 

\- - -

He _needed_ those emails. He wanted that trophy more than anything, but he was distracted by a shaky voice in his ear, asking, "Come here often?"

Connor used to start at those words. Now, he shrugs them off. He gets them any time he goes out. He's resigned himself to thinking it's because his soul is destined for quick-fix, anonymous sex. He doesn't have a soulmate, and he's fine with it. Honestly. 

"That depends."

The guys face drops. He's nerdy, with thick, round frames on his face and his dress shirt buttoned up to the collar. Maybe he wasn't expecting a guy like Connor to respond. "O-on what?"

"On how often _you_ come here. What's your name?"

"Oliver?"

"Well, Oliver, let me guess - you work in the advertising agency upstairs."

\- - - 

"I thought all you wanted from me were those emails?"

"I did. But I want this, too. Turn over."

\- - - 

"Hey, don't be a bitch, I could get arrested for this."

"I'd never let that happen."

\- - -

"Come on, it's not like we said that we were exclusive."

"Get out."

\- - -

"I screwed up, Oliver. I screwed up so bad."

\- - -

Oliver didn't know what to make of the guy on his couch. The guy he was _so sure_ was his soulmate. He'd resigned himself to not being Connor's. Maybe... Maybe not all soulmates were paired. Maybe some were one-sided, he didn't know, and he didn't care because he'd _found_ his. 

Then he broke Oliver's heart and he swore he would never see him again. 

But he _needed_ him. Something happened and he came _here_. That had to mean something. 

\- - -

"Hey. You should take a shower. Get warmed up."

"Can't."

"Why not?" He looks at Oliver, and he can see the sheer terror in the other man's eyes. "Come on. I'll stay with you."

So he does. He undresses Connor and sits under the water spray with him, holding him close and tucking Connor's head under his chin and just praying that he is okay. 

It feels like hours pass before they get up and dry off, slipping into bed in just boxers. 

Oliver holds him even closer and calls off work. 

\- - -

They're not together. Not in the least. There's support to be had there, but nothing more. 

Oliver refuses to go down that road with him. Not while he's still so unstable and their relationship still stings to look back on. 

\- - -

"Hi, I'm Oliver, and you are...?"

"That depends."

Oliver's eyes widen, and bittersweet hope blooms in his chest. 

\- - -

The man is sucking a mark into Oliver's shoulder, pushing his hips hard into his. 

Oliver pulls his shirt over his head and stops short. 

"What?"

' _I've heard so much about you_ ' is scrawled across the man's collar bone in open, loopy letters. 

"It's not me."

The man looks down. "Yeah, I haven't met them yet, but so what, we -"

Oliver lifts up his pant leg, showing him the small, compact cursive at his ankle. ' _That depends_.'

"Oh, you thought..."

Oliver laughs darkly. "You wouldn't even be the first one I've made that mistake with."

The man shrugs and leans in, but Oliver leans away. "You should go." 

Once he's alone, he debates calling Connor. They're friends now. Surely he could... _no_. He won't do this. Not with him. 

\- - -

Connor is talking to him one day from his usual place on the couch as Oliver makes them plates of Thai take out. 

"So Laurel lets it slip that her tattoo matches Frank's. It's hysterical, honestly."

Oliver doesn't answer. 

"What's yours?" He drops the spoon, sending rice flying to the counter. "Fuck, Oliver, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to -"

"Don't ask me that again."

Connor cocks his head. "Why... Oh. You don't have one, do you? I've seen every inch of you, Oliver, and I never noticed one. It's fine, really, plenty of people don't-"

"Will you shut up? It's just generic. I've met two people already that I thought it could've been."

Connor laughs. He's actually _laughing_ while Oliver is in pain. "Mine, too." He takes the watch off, showing Oliver the familiar handwriting. "' _Come here often_.' I get that every time I go out. I got sick of guys thinking they were my -"

Suddenly, Oliver is kissing him. And _oh_ they've both missed this so much, _too_ much. Oliver's hand is unbuttoning his shirt and before Connor can register what's happening, they're both shirtless and Oliver is working on his belt buckle. 

"Wait, wait, Oliver, what..."

"That's my handwriting."

Connor pulls away. "You're my..." Oliver nods. "But I'm not your..."

Oliver goes for his own belt buckle, but Connor puts a hand on his to stop him. They should talk. If he's not Oliver's soulmate...

But Oliver pushes his hand away, and moments later, he's kicking his suit trousers off his ankle, before lifting it so Connor can see. "Is that your handwriting?"

Connor nods and pulls him in for a kiss, dragging him to the bedroom. 

\- - -

"I can't believe we never made the connection."

"You didn't react when I said it, so I just assumed you weren't mine, either."

Connor kisses him. "I'm glad it's you. I'm so fucking glad, Oliver."

Oliver grins at him, and _God_ , Connor has missed that. "Me too."

"I can't believe it's _actually_ ' _Come here often_.'"

"Shut up, I was nervous!"

Connor just chuckles and pulls Oliver closer, tucking himself securely into his side. He feels himself drifting to sleep with Oliver's fingers combing through his hair, and he's content.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](oliver-walshs.tumblr.com)!


End file.
